Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. One Cup At A Time By DSBriggs Judith saw her hand reaching out and towards her mug. She noticed since her brain injury, she had to mentally plan any movement step by step. She closed one eye so that only one mug was in her vision. “OK. Lift the hand out of the lap. Make sure the arm isn’t taking a side trip of its own. All right, aim for the mug on the right. Uncurl fingers. That’s progress. No one has to unbend and stretch ‘em.” The knuckles on her hand were swollen and she noticed she was thinking in third person. “My knuckles, my knuckles are swollen. I have crooked fingers too.” She watched her arm and hand work in unison as she reached for her mug. She mentally told herself to grab as tight as she…
Category: Sparks
Memorable writing that sparks imagination.
September Light
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. September Light By Cheryl Moore From the terrace, over the wooden fence with its lattice trim, the hills glow golden. A shadow of eucalyptus stretches across, cutting off the light. Beyond, higher hills rise—these with a woodland coat, perhaps pines or other conifers, roll gently against the pale blue sky. A turkey vulture slowly circles with its ever-present eye. A fence running across the golden grass bisects the slope—earlier cattle grazed, gone now. The shadows grow—longer and longer—the glowing gold slowly dims as the sun edges lower and lower toward the earth’s rim. On this September day with the equinox not far away, the evening approaches more swiftly, in preparation for the long nights to come, short days of limited sun—another year passing, another year to come. Cheryl Moore grew up in the mid-west, went to college…
All In Good Time
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. All in Good time By Lynn Levy “How do you work it?” Joe finally asked. Agnes smiled. It was one of her rules. No cell phones in the house. Not no phones, but by the time these kids got handed over to her, less-is-more turned out to be a good starting place. “What’s the phone number?” Agnes asked. Joe shrugged, which was not a surprise. Kids didn’t memorize numbers anymore. The phone stored them. “Alright,” Agnes said. “The first thing you have to do is memorize the phone number here. Get it down until you can say it by heart. It’s just 10 numbers. 304-555-0058. Say it back.” “Three oh four,” Joe started and faltered. “Can I write it down, at least?” Joe asked. Agnes shook her head, and repeated the number. This first test told…
A Simple Building
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. A Simple Building By Cheryl Moore A simple building lacking in flare Why am I so often drawn there? Roaming its shelves, tasting its wares A whole wide world available there Journeys take me around the world And when I no longer want to roam Work on gardens, on business On cooking and art And English lit and Shakespeare To keep me smart Not to mention poetry To suit the fussiest muse So much to read, no time to lose. Cheryl Moore grew up in the mid-west, went to college in San Francisco, then lived in foreign lands before returning and eventually settling in Sonoma County. In recent years, she lives in a house and garden where deer nibble on roses, raccoons dine on fallen figs, and her bird feeders are busy. A nearby river offers…
Rock Climbing
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page Rock Climbing by Su Shafer Not looking down is easier when you’re struggling up. The focus is ALL up the next up finger hold – up foot hold – up carabiner solid – secure up. The hands know how to find the hammer without looking. Down is not in the picture. Up is in careful, methodical inches step by step hold by hold the goal is ahead edging closer and closer. It’s only when you get to the top that you realize how far down is to get home. The dizzy certainty is that INSTANT DOWN is imminent and permanent. CHOREOGRAPHED DOWN Is trying to control the Law of Gravity with sweaty hands and and a heart mde of lead,…
To Bee or Not Too Bee
To Bee or Not Too Bee By Caryl Sherman Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. What brings me comfort are the moments I sit outside, in my private little apartment garden, reading a book whose words intrigue and delight me. The big black shiny honey bees are flitting about my blooming flowers, sipping their nectar and laughing with joy. Yes, I can hear them. Maybe you can’t, but I have cultivated a special and long lasting relationship with them. They are my neighbors, and my friends. They fly to see me everyday. They are loyal and perpetually consistent with their love. I rise with anticipatory excitement as I hustle outside! Which one will I see today as I gleefully read to them aloud? Does it bring us comfort? Are we the same, even though we appear so different? We are living things. We matter!…
Writing
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Writing By Cheryl Moore A silver tongue would be nice A pen that wrote golden prose Or poetry would be better. How would it feel to be Billy Collins Whose books sit On my bedside table? His small journeys Make magic of the mundane Of ordinary daily events One poem describes Sitting at his desk words flow Seemingly without his bidding I sit at my desk Pen posed over paper Nothing comes out I could doodle a picture Make it look like a word And start from there Would it be like opening a tap With words pouring out Given enough time? My words wouldn’t be golden Nor even silver Probably just tin Maybe Billie’s don’t flow golden Until he works and revises As most good writers must…
Holding Water
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Holding Water By M.A. Dooley I remember the first winery I designed in the middle of a level vineyard. Construction began after the vines were removed and the earth was excavated for the foundation. A big storm hit the northern Sonoma County and lasted for days. At the jobsite meeting, the crew had erected a sign at the edge of a large body of captured rainwater where the future building would go. The sign read Lake Dooley, named after me, the architect. It was funny and I laughed. I had great capacity for everything, hard work, men and their jokes, life. My lake would evaporate, percolate, and be drained and no one would ever know of Lake Dooley. The spring of 2023 was too full to process. The snow and rain kept falling, the rivers were…
Sunsets
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Sunsets By Joop Delahaye Sunsets . . . always beautiful, no matter where or when. Blindingly bright in the beginning, can’t look at it, then softening, slipping into the distant ocean . . . the water extinguishing the brightness and the heat and allowing the usual yellows and reds to persist, until they faded to purple and gone. Sitting on a bluff at the Sea Ranch, or on Mount Tam’s west slopes, or the southern Oregon coast at Gold Beach, or on the Croatian coast at Sibenik . . . all notable, all full. The late rays seemed to have an enhanced power of penetration into the soul, the heart. Replenishing spent fuel rods, battery cells, warming the humors. The energy, the short-lasting blast easily pushes open the portals and shines into the nooks and crannies…
How Photography Inspires Writing
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. How Photography Inspires My Writing By Simona Carini On January 18, 2016, walking around North Berkeley, I was brought to a halt by the look of a house: the right and left side were painted in different colors and the overall effect was that of a line bisecting the façade. I took a photo and resumed my walk but kept thinking about the house. At home, I wrote down what I had seen and the musings the sight had stirred, then distilled the material into my first poem “The Divorced House” which was published in the journal, Star 82 Review, together with the photo. At the time, I had been writing for almost 10 years, mostly about food and more recently memoir. Poetry was a new endeavor. As I developed my style and voice, I continued…